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06/01/2026

On Colombia’s Caribbean coast, in South America, Cartagena’s old town stands bright under a hard sun, refusing to dull with time.
Its walls once protected the city from pirates. Today, they protect something else — memory. Balconies overflow with flowers. Doors wear colours boldly, as if age has only made them more confident.
People here are proud of this stubborn beauty. Life moves loudly. Music leaks into the streets. Conversations don’t lower their voices for history — they live alongside it.
Cartagena doesn’t preserve its past in silence. It lets it sweat, laugh, and age openly. The city seems to say that survival isn’t about staying untouched — it’s about staying visible.
Some places age by disappearing.
This one survives by showing up fully, every single day.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

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06/01/2026

The day doesn’t know you yet.
It hasn’t judged your speed, your usefulness, or your mood.
This is the moment I like — before messages arrive, before the world forms an opinion. Earlier, I used to rush through it, afraid of falling behind. Now I try to stand still inside it, even if only for a minute.
There was a time when mornings were innocent. We woke up because sleep ended, not because alarms commanded us. Nothing demanded excellence before breakfast.
If you’re reading this early, don’t offer yourself fully yet. Hold something back — a thought, a breath, a little calm. The day will take enough from you later.
Right now, it hasn’t asked anything.
And that makes this moment quietly powerful.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

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05/01/2026

If someone asks how your day went, and you say, “Nothing much,” don’t correct yourself.
Nothing much means you survived it. It means the day didn’t break you, even if it tired you. We’ve begun to underestimate ordinary days — the ones without headlines, milestones, or announcements.
Earlier, evenings were for sitting around. Stories repeated. Jokes fell flat. Still, nobody felt the need to perform. Now we measure days by output and nights by exhaustion.
Tonight, allow yourself an unremarkable ending. Eat slowly. Sit quietly. Let the body loosen its grip on the day.
Not every evening needs reflection.
Some only need rest — and permission to stop.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

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05/01/2026

In southern India, in the state of Kerala, water decides the rhythm of life.
The backwaters are not dramatic. They don’t rise or roar. They move slowly, carrying homes, conversations, and afternoons that stretch longer than expected. Boats glide past coconut trees like time itself has learned to be patient.

People here are proud of this slowness. Meals take time. Journeys pause. Even silence feels shared. You begin to notice small things — ripples against wooden boats, the sound of oars, someone waving without urgency.
Kerala’s backwaters remind you that progress does not always need speed. Sometimes, moving gently keeps things intact — relationships, landscapes, even oneself.
In a world learning to rush everywhere, this place quietly insists: arrive slowly. Nothing important is leaving.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

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05/01/2026

Before the day learns your name, it is kind to you.
No one has asked anything yet. No expectation has arrived. The world is still deciding what to demand.
This small window — just after waking — is where I try to stay a little longer now. Earlier, I rushed out of it. I thought speed meant seriousness. It didn’t. It only meant noise.
There was a time when mornings felt endless. We had nowhere important to go and still managed to reach everywhere. Today, we have calendars full and feel unfinished by noon.
If you’re awake early where you are, don’t fill the silence immediately. Let the day approach you gently. You don’t need to announce yourself to it yet.
Some mornings are meant to be anonymous.
They protect you before the world begins.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

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04/01/2026

Evenings were once simple.
We came home dusty, hungry, loud — and somehow satisfied.
No notifications waited. No performance review followed the day. We didn’t call it “balance.” We just lived until sleep arrived on its own.
Tonight feels heavier. Screens glow longer. Silence feels unfamiliar. Yet somewhere beneath the fatigue, that old evening still exists — the one where sitting quietly meant rest, not boredom.
If today drained you, don’t fight it.
If you achieved nothing measurable, don’t apologise.
Evenings were never meant for improvement.
They were meant for recovery.
Close something gently tonight — a book, a window, a thought.
Let the day end without explanation.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

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04/01/2026

Djenné lies in West Africa, in the country of Mali, far from polished travel brochures and faster lives.
Its great mosque is built entirely of mud — and rebuilt every year by the people themselves. No engineers flying in. No sponsors. Just hands that remember what their parents taught them.

Cracks appear. Nobody panics.
Repair is part of belonging here.
Children pass bricks. Elders guide silently. The town does not fear decay — it expects it. What matters is not permanence, but participation.
Djenné reminds us that heritage is not what you protect behind ropes. It is what you return to, again and again, when it begins to fall apart.
In a world obsessed with things that look finished, this place survives by accepting that nothing ever truly is.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

All rights reserved by the author
04/01/2026

Some mornings arrive without instructions.
No urgency. No list. Just a quiet question inside you asking, “What if today is lighter?”
When I was younger, mornings meant nothing. I woke up, stepped out, lived. No forecasts, no reminders, no self-help quotes telling me how to feel. Somewhere along the way, we began over-preparing for days that simply wanted to be lived.
This morning feels like that old version again.
Unstructured. Honest. Unafraid of wasting time.
If you’re reading this with tea cooling beside you, let it cool. If the sun is late where you are, let it come when it wants. Some days don’t need ambition — they need permission.
Today doesn’t demand brilliance.
It only asks you to be present.
And that is already enough.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube: Converse With A Smile

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Date: 03/01/2026

I didn’t finish everything today.
Some messages stayed unanswered. A thought remained half-written. One plan quietly dissolved.
Earlier, that would have bothered me.
Tonight, it doesn’t.
Evenings have taught me that unfinished things are not failures.
They’re proof that the day was lived, not managed.
I once heard someone say, “If everything is done, you probably rushed.”
That stayed with me.
So I’m letting this evening be slightly incomplete.
The room is calm. The light is low. Tomorrow exists.
Not every loose end needs tying before sleep.
Some can wait on the table, patient, unjudging.
If your day feels the same, you’re not behind.
You’re simply still in motion.
That’s enough for tonight.

Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile

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Date: 03/01/2026

Socotra is an island in the Arabian Sea, part of Yemen, but it feels as if it belongs to another timeline altogether.
Trees here look unfamiliar—thick trunks, strange shapes, branches that seem undecided about direction.
The famous dragon blood tree grows like an umbrella turned upside down, existing nowhere else on Earth.

A local herder walks quietly across the rocky land, goats following without instruction.
Life here is sparse, not poor—measured, not rushed.
The people of Socotra are proud of how little the island has been altered.
Modern life arrived late and gently. Traditions stayed.
This is not a place shaped by convenience.
It is shaped by isolation, patience, and acceptance.
Socotra teaches a rare lesson:
That survival does not always mean adapting fast.
Sometimes it means refusing to change at all.
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
Instagram @rajatchandrasarmah5
YouTube @conversewithasmile